


Absolutely Yours

by emiralnova



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Depression, F/M, Resonance Bang 2016, Romance, Romantic Comedy, absolute boyfriend au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9263531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emiralnova/pseuds/emiralnova
Summary: Altered SE Universe/Absolute Boyfriend AU. Kid gives Maka a website that allows her to customize her perfect romantic mate. Thinking it's a joke, Maka accidentally orders the "perfect boyfriend," then revealed to be love smitten Soul Evans, who doesn't remember anything from his past before his mysterious death. Will wary Maka fall for him? Will Soul discover who he is & his past? Written for Resbang 2016.Warnings: Language, Crude Humor, Some Sexual Situations, Mentions of Depression/Suicide





	1. Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY FIRST RESBANG HUZZAH!
> 
> I want to give a BIGG thanks to Marsh of Sleep for being the BEST beta/sempai everrrrrrr. *bows at her glory* Also another big thanks to everyone on the SE fandom Discord chat and my best friends Luna and Izzy for being the greatest support group everrrrrrrr!
> 
> Check out jkat19's art here (when I get a link). 
> 
> Enjoy!

# 

“Papa? Why didn’t Mama come with us?”

“Because she has to work late, honey. So I thought we could spend time with each other! This theater is beautiful, isn’t it?” Spirit commented, convinced that this was a great idea. 

Maka took in her surroundings and noticed her father making weird faces at well-dressed ladies. He had been doing that a lot lately, whenever Mama wasn’t around. Maka wasn’t sure how to feel about that. 

Papa forced her into this nice, itchy thing that she didn’t care for, but she did it to humor him. He seemed excited to come to this show. “It’s the Evans Family Concerto,” Papa explained. “The Evans’ are _the_ most famous musical family in the world, so it’s guaranteed to be a lavish affair, Maka-chan. So we have to look our best.” 

“How did you get the tickets?” Maka asked, since it seemed like a big deal. 

“Papa has his ways,” he mused, straightening out her skirt. He didn’t elaborate further. 

Death City Concert Hall was warmly lit and ushers escorted various guests to their luxurious, red cushioned seats. Maka never dreamed of Death City having someplace this lavish in its vicinity. She bounced a little in her seat, moving the itchy floof of her dress out from under her legs. There were a lot of adults here, barely any children – the few who were seemed uncomfortable in their suits and clearly not excited to be here. Maka turned to her father, about to tell him her observations, but he seemed engaged with the woman next to him, the woman’s hand on his knee. 

Feeling out of place, she stared at her hands and noticed some of the lines in her tiny fingers. Tsubaki-chan once told her that those hand-lines could tell how long she could live. Maka is skeptical of that theory, but she does hope that she will live a long time. At least long enough to see Tsubaki again. She moved back to Japan to train in her family dojo and Tsubaki said that she could not get out of it. Maka’s pigtails drooped further as she sank deeper in her seat. 

A series of claps brought Maka out of her thoughts. The red curtain rose on stage to reveal a young man with a full orchestra behind him. As he bowed, the claps became louder as he straightened to face the crowd. In the light, his hair was almost white, his sharp suit moved as he did. He smiled gratefully and did his best to quiet the crowd to begin. In his hand was what, to Maka, looked like a violin and he cradled it on his neck while his arm lifted the bow and pulled his first note. 

The concert continued on like that. Song after song. After the young man finished, a platinum blonde woman came on stage. Maka deduced her to be the man’s mother. She played the flute. Next was an older man who played the cello. Then a younger woman. Then the young man again. The crowd cheered loudly after each performance. Maka clapped politely, not understanding what people really liked about the pieces, but they seemed nice to hear. She was getting bored though. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, Maka?” 

Maka, surprised, turned to her father and he was smiling at her, “It’s quite good, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s okay, Papa. I don’t think I get most of it, but it seems nice,” Maka said honestly. 

“Oh,” Spirit’s clapping faltered. “Not your cup of tea, I suppose.”

“If you like it, I like it too. Thank you for taking me, Papa,” Maka insisted and gave him one of her big smiles. Spirit gave her a knowing half grin and kissed the crown of her head.

Maka turned back to the stage and suddenly noticed that it got very quiet. Footsteps were heard and a boy about her age stepped toward a piano that wasn’t there before. In the light, his hair really _is_ white. The clean, simple suit didn’t _suit_ him at all. After he finished his bow, Maka noticed that his eyes were not quite brown-- almost _red_. He took his seat on the bench and Maka saw that he had a hint of a slouch before correcting himself and sat up straight. The quiet of the concert hall unnerved her, as if everyone was holding their breath. 

_What is wrong with everyone?_ Maka thought. The boy lifted his hands to the keys and there was a pause. He seemed to be concentrating on something. Almost like he was making a deci-

CLANG!

The people around her gasped. Maka, undeterred, straightened up. 

CLANG! _Silence._

…And then began something that was not boring to Maka at all. She watched his fingers fly across the keys. After the first minute or two, she caught him smiling, almost crazed. She couldn’t look away; the boy’s music was _enchanting_ , going loud, then soft, and it spoke to her soul. It was different than any other music Maka had heard before, and the boy seemed to be enjoying himself. It didn’t feel like he was putting on a show, instead he was playing from the heart. But like all pieces, for once sooner rather than later, the boy ended his song. 

His last note rang. Stunned silence met him and he pulled his hands away from the keys. 

Maka stood up abruptly and clapped. She clapped louder than she had clapped all evening. The boy whipped his head to the audience with shock, their eyes met. And Maka could do nothing but smile brightly and clap harder. _It was really good,_ she expressed, hoping her body language told him that. The boy blinked twice and then smiled awkwardly. He stood up and bowed deeply. Maka swore he was sweating really hard. 

It was then everyone else got with the program and clapped politely, with more murmurs than hand movement. Maka continued clapping until she realized everyone had already stopped and that the boy had already left the stage. She sat down and took a breath. She couldn’t believe how good that was. 

“So Maka, are you enjoying _your_ evening?” Spirit asked amusedly after she sat down. 

She nodded excitedly and said, “Yes Papa, thank you so much for bringing me! I hope he comes out again!”

“Hmm, let’s see what the program says!” He produced a thin booklet Maka hadn’t noticed before, and they scanned the list of names. He pointed at the name _Soul Evans_ near the bottom of the page, “We just finished listening to him and it looks like… there are only two more songs left, darling, I’m sorry. He won’t be coming out again.”

“Awww! He was the best part,” Maka pouted and slouched on the armrest. Spirit chuckled and brushed her hair out of her face. “If you like him so much, we can go to another one of their concerts in the future, how’s that?”

Maka nodded, “Yes please.” 

The stage was already set with the violinist from earlier and with a crescendo fifteen minutes later, the concert ended with a loud, boring sound. Maka was then herded by her father out of their aisle. 

“Wait, Maka! Papa has to go say hello to someone very quickly, come with me this way,” Spirit said and dragged her to meet a black figure in the corner with a funny, three-holed mask. 

“Death Scythe, I was wondering where you were!” the figure said, waving a large gloved hand.

“Shinigami-sama! Thank you so much for the tickets tonight. Maka and I enjoyed ourselves, didn’t we Maka?” Spirit said.

Maka looked up to the man in the mask and then realized it was Lord Death himself. She gasped and smiled widely, “Yes, thank you, Shinigami-sama! I really enjoyed the piano boy toward the end.”

“Ah, yes I did too. He was very intriguing!” Lord Death remarked jovially. 

“I thought so too, Father!” said a boy, his short legs running up to the masked man. “I wanted to go backstage, but there’s too many people,” he pouted. Maka stared curiously at his striped hair.

“Kiddo! Just in time. Allow me to introduce you to Maka-chan and my current Death Scythe, Spirit Albarn. She and her father won the tickets from our “death raffle” a while ago, remember?” Lord Death waved a large hand over at them.

“Oh, congratulations!” Kid greeted politely and then turned to Maka. “Did you like the boy too? With the piano?”

“Mhm!” Maka nodded. 

“Me too. I saw a lot of people didn’t though. At least you did!” Kid expressed inclusively. 

Maka smiled, already liking him. After bidding Lord Death and his son goodbye, Maka sat in the back seat of the car while Spirit drove them home. She wondered if the piano boy really had red eyes.

\\\

Over the years, Spirit Albarn would sometimes update Maka on the Evans’s family appearances. Maka would tune out the rest until she asked about the piano boy. More often than not, there wasn’t anything about him whenever Spirit would bring them up. Maka soon lost interest in whenever Spirit talked about them.

Mama continued to work. Papa had Death Scythe duties. Her parents were never home at the same time, and if they were, they were always shouting at each other. Maka did her homework and chores, not wanting to cause any trouble. She tried intervening once, but got yelled at herself, so she stopped trying. At thirteen, Maka was now aware of her father’s vices and she watched her parents’ marriage fall apart. The shouting was soon commonplace and Maka often went up to her room to tune them out. 

Whenever Spirit tried to talk to her, it fell deaf in her ears, and the only noticeable pique Maka made was whenever the Evans’ family was brought up. 

“Was Soul at the performance?” Maka asked curtly. Spirit cringed and said, “No, there was no word of him in the article.” 

“Hm,” she hummed, continuing to ignore him. 

At sixteen, her mother moved out. A few months later, just shy of turning seventeen, Maka watched from the stairs as her parents signed divorce papers. 

Two months after her birthday, Spirit Albarn came into her room and gave her the morning’s Death City Daily Newspaper. It was opened on the third page to a small article about the Evans Family:

>   
>  _Soul Evans, 18, second son of the prestigious musical family, was pronounced dead at 6:42am on Friday, 2 of April. Details of his sudden death are kept quiet at the family’s request, despite rumors of a suicide attempt. No official statement about the cause has been released._  
> 

“I thought you would want to know about it,” Spirit said quietly, and left the room.

Maka blinked and flipped the newspaper upside down. She closed her history textbook and decided she’s had enough studying for the day.


	2. The Website

Deep in thought, Kid paced the Death Room. This plan seemed completely unnecessary-- not because it was far-fetched, but because it came from his father, of all beings-- and the repercussions if it failed would be… unsavory. 

“Kiddo.”

Kid sighed and turned toward his father. “I didn’t think it was even possible to accomplish what you’ve done.”

“Well, they didn’t want him. It would’ve been a shame because he was very talented, but clearly placed in the wrong setting. This is his second chance,” Lord Death explained. “Plus I think it would be fun to watch!”

“Father, you’re playing with people’s lives here. I don’t think this should be something we can treat lightly.”

“It’s not like they’ll remember right away. It’ll take time for them to realize their past and how to move on from that. And I won’t be just picking anyone for this experiment. Only the ones I deem worthy of such a chance.”

“You sound like Stein,” Kid deadpanned. 

“Hm well, he has been around quite a bit.”

“You’re playing _god_ here.”

“Kiddo, I think it’s time I exercised some of my godly powers before you take over. It’ll be fine. I will take full responsibility if something were to happen. I promise!”

\\\

“Oof!”

Kid fell backwards and just caught himself on a nearby bench. He was about to apologize profusely when he recognized who he’d bumped into. It has been a few years, but he didn’t forget a face. 

“Maka, right?” he asked. 

The girl in pigtails looked up, green eyes slightly irritated. “How do you know my name?”

“I remember you from the Evans’ Concerto when we were very little,” he said, offering her his hand. 

She was brushing herself off when she recognized him. “Oh! Striped hair!”

“…Yes, that’s me,” Kid’s eye twitched. He cleared his throat and a sudden an idea came just in time to save him from convulsing. “How’s life treating you so far?”

“Um… alright I guess. I just moved out of my dad’s house and now I have my first apartment!”

“Oh excellent, congratulations. Is it around here?” Kid said, looking around. The main street was busy with people, despite it being only 2pm on a weekday. 

Maka gave him a weird look, “Is that something you ask everyone you first meet?”

Kid blanched and apologized, “Sorry, I don’t interact with many people.”

“Don’t you have any friends?”

With a pause, he said, “…Not really. I don’t even have a weapon partner yet.” He looked thoughtful for a moment and Maka realized perhaps _she_ had said the wrong thing. 

“Oh. Well, I’m sure there’s one for you out there somewhere! You’re Lord Death’s son!” Maka said cheerfully. 

“Yes, I certainly hope so. Say, I’m sorry for bumping into you but I was hoping we could discuss something, if you have time…”

\\\

Maka stared at the business card in her hand. Death the Kid, it said, with his current address, email, and personal phone number. On the back, there was a website he wrote down. Maka snorted. 

“What a strange kid,” Maka mumbled and stuffed the business card in her desk drawer. 

She sighed and spun on her chair, taking in her new apartment. It was small and cramped, cluttered with boxes yet to be unpacked. There was a clothesline strung haphazardly around the living room, clothespins spinning from the slight breeze coming in from the small balcony window. The balcony was the selling point for Maka—the room seemed bigger with access to the outside. It was bustling outside while Maka breathed in the fresh air and appreciated the quiet in her third story, away from her father. Their relationship was already strained as it was. Some space could do them some good. 

Her phone rang, shocking the silence from the air-- to her surprise, it was Tsubaki calling. 

“Hello?”

“Maka-chan? Is that you?”

“Oh my gosh, Tsubaki! I’m glad I never deleted my number!”

“Eeeeee! Yes, I’m so glad too! How are you?”

“I’m great, I just got my first apartment so you kind of scared me. It’s really quiet here.”

“Aww, I’m sorry. But hey, I have some good news! My sensei says I passed my training so I was given the all-clear to move back to Death City!”

“AHHHH!!!” Maka squealed.

“AHHHHHH!!!” Tsubaki squealed back. 

\\\

_A week later…_

“So do you have a boyfriend yet?” Tsubaki asked, sipping on her drink.

“Pff, no. I went on a lot of dates a few months ago, but a lot of guys are only interested in sex,” Maka sighed, stirring her drink. “I don’t think guys are for me.”

Tsubaki gasped, “Are you gay???”

“Noooo, guh that came out wrong! I meant that I don’t think I’m meant to have a partner in life.”

“Oh Maka-chan, I’m sure you’ll meet someone nice! You just have to keep trying!” Tsubaki encouraged. 

“I think twenty failed dates is enough for me,” Maka grumbled, sipping on her straw.

“Twenty?!” 

“Yeah, Death City doesn’t really give you many options,” she deduced, eyeing the liquor bottles behind the bar.

“Oh,” Tsubaki said disappointed, wiping the water from her glass.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Maka returned back.

“Uh, sort of,” Tsubaki said shyly. “We’re not really anything official. We’ve been friends for a long time, but we only recently started... uh _doing_ things before I decided to move back here. We still Skype and all. He’s thinking of moving here, but he’s terrified of planes, oddly enough.”

“Why is it odd? A lot of people are afraid of flying.”

“Well, he’s always very… confident,” Tsubaki said carefully. “He’s not afraid of many things.”

“I guess if he likes you enough, he’ll get his butt over here,” Maka joked.

Tsubaki giggled, “Yes that would be something.”

“Say, there was this kid, whose name is literally Kid, who told me about this website about creating the “perfect boyfriend,” Maka said with air quotes. “He seemed super serious about it.”

“Ooh, sounds interesting! Is it one of those quiz sites?”

“Yes and no, he said it was more of a customization site, where you pick out features or you can answer questions or do both. Honestly, I don’t care what my boyfriend looks like as long as he’s nice and a decent person,” Maka reasoned. 

“This site won’t actually _give_ you a boyfriend, would it?”

“I doubt it. He’s sounded like a perfectionist who doesn’t talk to people, so he ends up creating one, which might explain why his social etiquette was terrible when I met him,” Maka said, though it came out harsher than she intended. 

“Maka! That doesn’t sound like you,” Tsubaki said shocked.

Maka sighed and rested her head on the table, “Sorry, I guess I’m just tired of looking. I know there isn’t anything wrong with being single, but I just want someone, you know? I guess I’m just afraid too.” Maka rested her head in her arms. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

“You’ll be okay,” Tsubaki said gently and gave her a small smile. 

Maka smiled back. “You know I don’t think I like beer very much.”

“Me either. Do you wanna head back to your place to watch some movies?”

“That’s sounds good.”

\\\

But despite what Tsubaki said, Maka was still thinking about it two weeks later. What Maka didn’t tell Tsubaki was how probing Kid’s questions were and it wasn’t because he meant to be rude. He was genuinely interested in what she had to say about relationships. But due to her parents failed marriage, she had very little to say about what she thought dating and relationships. And it didn’t seem like Kid was hitting on her or even interested in dating her. He kept asking questions mostly to further his knowledge of relationships. He did offer to buy her dinner, to continue their conversation, but she turned him away, saying she already bought groceries. At that, Kid gave her his business card and left her. 

_I guess being a Shinigami’s son makes him the strangest of strange_ , Maka thought, fiddling with a pen at her desk. Her laptop was open and she planned on getting started on her coursework, but it was early in the semester. Her mood was shot after remembering her and Kid’s conversation. 

Maka, already looking down, realized that her desk drawer was in her line of sight. She huffed and took out Death the Kid’s business card, typed in the url on the back, and was led to a site that had her fill out her name, age, gender, occupation, and other fill-ins before leading her to questions like “What type of relationship are you interested in?”, “What are your pet peeves?”, and “What is your usual diet?”. 

The questions then began to be more partner specific like, “Do you care about his/her appearances?”, “What are you intolerant of?”, and it continued until an hour passed before Maka could finally click “SUBMIT."

The following page thanked her for her time and her responses had been received. “‘Your results will be sent to you in the mail in 2 days,’” Maka read. She blew at her bangs. _What a waste of time_ , she thought and went to bed. 


	3. The Package

If there was anything Maka was sick of, it was definitely that lonely/longing feeling in her chest. Like she told Tsubaki, there was nothing wrong with being single. If anything, being single was a good thing: no worrying about another person, no fighting, and definitely no potential breakup pain. Granted her parents were never the best example for love, but Maka remembered when they at least _tried_ to save their marriage. 

Maka hung onto this reasoning desperately, hoping that this date _could be the one_ and the empty feeling would disappear. But this blond, tries-too-hard punk boy sitting across from her was boring. Thankfully it was just a coffee-date. An hour later, Maka left the coffee shop with a relieved sigh, giving an excuse of running to class. 

It was two days after she took Kid’s intake form. Maka had already forgotten about it. Her day continued as normal. Tsubaki and Maka had lunch together. Afterward, she went to her writing course with Crona, a nervous, pink haired gangly person who writes exceptional angst poetry. Later, she ran a quick grocery trip before heading home for the evening. 

Arriving on her floor, Maka shifted her groceries onto one arm to retrieve her keys. Keys in hand, she looked up and abruptly halted her next step. She almost tripped over an alarmingly large rectangular box that laid horizontally before her front door. The box came up to her mid-thigh, but it was clearly a package, a shipping label pasted on the far corner with her name on it. 

_I don’t remember ordering anything…_ Maka thought and awkwardly unlocked her door over the package. 

Clamoring into her apartment, she set aside her bags and slowly maneuvered the monster package into her small living room. She hoped this wasn’t an unnecessary gift from her father. Maka grabbed a pair of scissors and started cutting up necessary ends to take off the cardboard. To her surprise, it was easy to remove and when the wrappings fell away, it revealed… a black coffin?!

It became horribly apparent that the package was indeed human sized. Maka felt her scissors drop from her fingers. _Papa wouldn’t send me…_ she shook her head. No, Spirit Albarn had terrible habits, but wasn’t the type to make macabre jokes. Death City had enough of those types.

The coffin was neatly taped with an envelope that said, ‘Please Read Before Opening.’ Wary, Maka tore open the envelope and took out what looked to be an order form and a single typed page with instructions and an explanation of what she received. Maka’s eyes widened. 

“No. Way,” Maka said, gaping. She looked at the coffin and flipped the clasp on the lid and lifted it to reveal – 

Maka gasped violently, barely stifling a scream and backed away from the coffin. Fingers covering her mouth, she looked at anything that wasn’t the coffin. Her eyes couldn’t blink. Some part of her brain was yelling nopenopenopenopenope while another part tried but failed to calm down and think logically. After several seconds, Maka realized she stopped breathing; her body forced her to take a breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, backed into the corner. _It couldn’t be…_ Maka denied, but how could she when it was right ther- 

Her eyes whipped to the coffin. Nothing moved. Everything was as it should be, except for the potentially dead body in her apartment. Why was _he_ in the coffin (in her apartment???) and not in the ground? 

_What do I do?_ Maka eyed the instructions she dropped. Slowly, she bravely uncurled herself from her corner and tentatively crawled towards them. She kept her eyes on the opened coffin because Death-forbid that there be an actual _zombie_ in her home, Maka carefully reread the instructions. Then she stood up, not touching the coffin at all, and took in the sight in front of her. 

What drew her attention immediately was the large scar that bisected his chest. It was stitched and healed. She noted he was very naked, a sheet covering his groin. Maka tentatively reached out to touch his arm and it surprised her that he was still warm. Her eyes moved to his face and she softened. He looked like he was sleeping. His hair was white as she remembered. His face was longer, boyish and handsome. He resembled his brother. Maka wondered, when she read his obituary, whether he was in any pain when he died. Maka felt silly because she didn’t know him at all, but knowing that he passed made her sad. The music he played those many years ago had such _life_ and yet so many didn’t enjoy it. Maka glanced back at her instructions. 

_All he needs is a kiss. Hold until he awakens._

She snorted at the cliché-ness. But if that’s all it took…

Face flushing, Maka closed her eyes and leaned over. Her lips touched his. They were warm. Maka never kissed anyone before and she wasn’t sure how long she had to hold it. It was strange, kissing someone, but it wasn’t unpleasant. She opened one eye. He was still dead. Breathing through her nose, she put more pressure into the kiss and she gasped when she felt something move beneath her. When she straightened, his eyes were already opening. She guessed right. They _were_ red. 

Those eyes blinked up at her. Maka stared back in wonder. 

…And then he started talking. 

“Hey,” he says, his sharp, flirtatious grin already on his face. “How’re you doing?” His deep voice tickled down her spine.

“Um… fine? Hi, um, Soul?” Maka said. 

“Soul? That’s my name? Sweet,” he said, sitting up, still grinning at her. “What’s yours?”

“Uh… Maka,” she said, heart beating fast. 

“Ma-ka,” he sounded out, already liking the sound of her name. 

“You don’t remember your name?” Maka said, incredulous. 

“What? I don’t have a name until you give me one. But I can be whoever you want, Maka,” Soul drawled.

“No, you’re Soul,” Maka insisted. “Soul Evans, remember? You had a family and everything…”

“Really? Already giving me a backstory?” Soul said, rising out of the coffin. “I like that. How about you tell me about it while we uh _discover_ each other?” The sheet covering him fell off his lap, his face inching close to hers.

_MAKA CHOP!_

Soul Evans fell back into this coffin, out cold. 

Maka squeaked, dropped the book from her hand, **ran into her room** , and locked the door. 

Sliding down to the floor, her inner thoughts screamed: _Oh my god, oh my god, he’s alive! What do I do what do I do?_ And then something occurred to her. _…Did he just try to sex me???_ Her eye twitched. _And why didn’t he remember his name? Maybe he’s lying._ Her mood soured at the thought. 

She heard a muffled groan. “Maka?” 

Unsure what to do, Maka stayed quiet. 

“Maka?” It sounded like he got up. “Hey, are you still here? I’m sorry if I came off too strong. We can take it slow, if you want?”

Maka squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her arms.

“You have a nice place. I could get used to living here,” he said. Maka’s nose scrunched up.

She slammed her door open, _“Now you listen here,”_ she shouted. 

He jolted with surprise. He was still naked. 

_“Death, Soul put on some pants!”_

A minute later, Soul sat on the futon with a towel wrapped on this waist. Maka stood in front of him, hands on her hips. 

“First things first: we are _not_ a thing.”

“We’re not?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“But you ordered me-”

“Well I didn’t know I would get an actual human, okay?!”

“But we’re supposed to be together forever, Maka,” Soul insisted, warm eyes on her. “I love you.”

_CHOP!_

“Ow, okay stop hitting me!”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on yet, but if you’re going to be sticking around, you’re following my house rules, got it?” 

“Are you always this violent?” Soul asked. “I kinda dig it.” 

“Don’t try anything or I’ll kick your ass to the moon!” Maka hissed at his face.

“You can do anything you want with me, Maka,” he grinned.

Maka made an angry noise through her nose, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe death screwed with your brains,” Maka muttered.

“I know what else I’d like to screw-”

_**WHAM!** _

After another minute, he said, “You have pretty eyes, you know that? Especially when you’re mad.”

“Shut up for a minute,” she asked, pinching her eyebrows. “Okay, what do you remember from your past?”

“Huh? I don’t have one remember? Though I’m cool with you giving me one-”

“No, ugh – Soul, why don’t you remember yourself?” Maka pressed. “You’re a musician. You play the piano. Your entire family are musicians! ‘The most famous musical family in the world,’” she quoted. 

“Really? Cool,” he grinned. “Do you have a piano laying around?”

“No, Soul – you really don’t have any memories? Of anything?”

He thought for a moment. “Nope, all I remember is waking up and seeing you. Which reminds me.” He stood up, suddenly serious. 

“I don’t know how I know this, but I know that waking up and seeing you gave me a purpose. And I want to let you know that you can count on me for anything. If you’re in trouble or if you need me for something, I’m here for you, Maka.” He stared into her widened eyes. He looked so earnest. 

Soul took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze. Maka felt her face heat up. Her heart thudded. _Oh no_ , she thought weakly. His eyes were so red. 

…And then his towel fell. 

Maka screeched. 

Soul’s head was dented again.


	4. The Death Room

“So Maka, what can I do for you?”

Kid sat back in his chair, sipping from his cup of tea. Across from him, Maka sipped politely before setting hers down on the coffee table. Soul wandered around the Death Room, curious of the guillotine arches and various crosses. Apparently there are names engraved on each cross. He was also thankfully clothed, after a rush shopping trip to Deathmart. 

“I have few questions about Soul,” Maka began. “First off, _why is he not dead?_ ” Her eyes narrowed at Kid.

He sighed, “Didn’t you read the letter that came with him?”

“I’d rather hear it from you, considering that we’re dealing with _another human being._ ”

“…Right. I apologize,” Kid said, pinching his brow. “Father did mention about delivering in person, but I thought a letter would suffice.”

“Wait, Lord Death allowed this to happen?” Maka said, eyebrows furrowed.

“Actually, it was his idea,” he said.

_“What?”_ she squawked.

Kid held up his hands, “I know, I know. I was hesitant at first too, but hear me out.” He glanced at Soul, who was at a nearby cross. 

Maka followed his gaze. “Should we call him over?” she asked.

“It’s not necessary. The contract only really concerns you,” Kid said and procured a long piece of parchment with tiny words. “As you can tell, Soul is very much alive. It was a long process, but we were able to revive him with the help of Dr. Stein and his expertise. You saw the scar on his chest?”

“Yeah. Why is it there?”

“Because a few days after his death, we received something in the mail. There was no return address, but we suspect it might have been Soul’s brother who sent it.”

“What was it?” Maka asked.

“It was Soul’s soul,” Kid said. “Are you familiar with the concept of souls?”

“A little, just the basics,” she admitted, looking over at the living and breathing Soul Evans. “It has a physical form, right? When someone dies?”

“Precisely,” he nodded. “Father felt terrible about Soul not being able to live his full potential, so he decided to give him second chance. And because he is a Shinigami, he was able to revive his body. However, when we procured it we had to open his chest to place the soul back into him. That’s where Stein came in.”

“But isn’t that… against nature or something?” 

“Well, it’s not conventional, but it can be done. We recently perfected the revival process. The first time we tried, we accidently turned one of our deceased professors into a zombie. Don’t ask,” Kid sighed, when Maka gave him a look. “But I assure you that Soul is perfectly human. We made sure before sending him to you.”

“So theoretically, now he can die from old age?” she reasoned.

“Well…” Kid hesitated. “We don’t _actually_ know about that part.”

_**“What?”** _

“Soul can _technically_ still die after the love spell wears off. Wait, don’t get mad!” Kid said quickly as a fuming Maka rose out of her seat. “Let me explain--”

“I’m starting to think this isn’t something we should ethically discuss without Soul—” she started.

“He can’t know anything—” 

“Why not? He doesn’t even remember his own name!” 

“Because there’s a process—”

“Is there a problem here?”

Kid and Maka looked over to see Soul sliding in between them, glaring at the young Shinigami. 

“Is he upsetting you, Maka?” he asked softly.

“We were just having a discussion, Soul. Nothing to be concerned about,” Kid said calmly to him, taking a step back.

“I asked her, not you,” Soul growled and looked over his shoulder at her.

“Soul, I can take care of myself,” she huffed, cheeks turning pink. “We were just talking.” 

When Soul didn’t move, she sighed and lightly shoved him away from their seats. “I’m fine, really, we’re almost done okay? I’m not upset, promise.”

Soul glanced warily at Kid, then reluctantly nodded. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I know,” she said, flushing. She took a breath when Soul was inspecting another cross in the distance.

“Very interesting,” Kid commented, sitting down.

It was Maka’s turn to glare at Kid. “What spell?” she spat out.

“We had to put a love spell on him so that he won’t remember who he was,” Kid explained. 

“Why not just use a memory spell?” she crossed her arms after sitting down.

“I was trying to tell you that before you flipped out,” he said brusquely. “A love spell would give him a distraction while he begins to remember who he is. If we tell him too early, it’ll impede Soul’s natural progression, so it would be better for his own psyche and well-being if he remembers things slowly on his own. If he asks, you may tell him, but not before. Wait for him to bring it up.”

Maka watched Soul heading back over to them, “I suppose it would be a big load to hear all at once,” she agreed reluctantly.

“It would,” Kid nodded.

“Will be remember he died?” 

“Yes. Everything.”

Maka didn’t know how to respond to that. 

Kid allowed that to sink in while he produced a pen from his shirt pocket. He slid the parchment across the table. “Despite our war with witches, we do have one that we’re good friends with and she is incredibly old. She provided us the spell to make Soul fall in love with the person he wakes up seeing. It should wear off with time, but we don’t know when.”

“So…he’s not really in love with me?” 

“Well, depends on how you look at it,” he said. “Before you two leave, I must ask you to sign this contract. It is to claim that Soul is your responsibility while in your care. Of course, if you have any issues or questions, feel free to call me.”

“Why me? Why not someone else?”

“Because your responses to the questionnaire matched to Soul’s personality the most. We had several women apply before choosing you.”

“Why should I do it at all then?” she challenged.

“Because you will be fined one million dollars if you don’t,” Kid informed.

“WHAT?”

“You’re our first study participant, so we won’t actually charge you as long you signed this contract and report back to us with his weekly progress.”

“I’m a glorified babysitter,” she deadpanned. 

“That depends on how you look at it,” he repeated with a smile, and handed her his pen. She sighed and signed her name on the contract. Kid folded it up and placed it in a brown envelope. “I’ll send you a copy to your email later.”

“Thanks,” Maka grumbled as Soul stopped next to her.

“Maka, I’m …hungry? I think. My stomach feels weird,” he said.

“I’m almost done, Soul. We can eat when we leave,” she replied.

“Actually, that’s pretty much it Maka. Unless you have more questions?” Kid raised his eyebrow. 

“…. Why is Lord Death allowing this?”

“He cryptically told me, “I’ve always wanted to do some matchmaking.””

“Seriously?” she gave him a bland look.

“I said the same when he pitched the idea,” the Shinigami said dryly.


	5. Roommates

Maka wondered how any of this was real life. 

For the most part, Soul was the perfect roommate. She figured that living with a boy would be gross and smelly, but she soon realized that though Soul lost his memory, he wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was very perceptive and aware of his actions. Except for the one time she found his boxers in the bathroom (which she chopped him for), he took regular showers when she told him that humans did this regularly. He also wore his boxers, if not sweat pants around her, thank god. No more nudists in her home! 

The one thing Soul was stubbornly resistant to was personal space. Maka wasn’t sure if it was because of his inherent nature or because of the love spell he’s under. After four days of living with him, she was already accustomed to leaning on him, back to back, while studying. She tried to persuade him otherwise, but it was honestly a bargain when he promised to tone down flirting. A week later, if she was truly honest with herself, she might admit to actually _liking_ his companionship.

Soul constantly wanted to do things with her, like lounging in front of the TV or walking her to school. They ate together whenever she returned home from class. He wished her goodnight when she went to bed. It was Soul who helped her unpack her apartment after talking to Kid. He made it seem like he’d lived with her for years, the only indication of his recent move was that he slept on the living room futon. 

The worst part of it was that the more he did for her, the guiltier she felt. 

It wasn’t like he owed her anything. And it definitely wasn’t his fault that he felt such affection for a complete stranger. Half of the things he told her felt like a lie. He told her she was beautiful, amazing, and that she was the love of his life. He stopped repeating the latter after he realized it made her uncomfortable. Despite even that, it didn’t seem like he minded. She wanted to discuss with him what would happen after the spell wore off, but whenever Maka wanted to bring it up, she couldn’t. Something stopped her and it started to feel suspiciously like denial. 

_Crap,_ she thought. She couldn’t study like this. It was a hot, summer evening and she could hear Soul in the shower. Was he… humming? It sounded like that jazz CD he picked up the other day. Which meant he must be becoming himself again, right? Maka sighed. Whether or not it was denial, it couldn’t go on. It had been only two weeks into her new living situation and she could only go so long without actually lying to him. Soul had to know the truth about his own feelings.

“Right,” she said aloud and got up from her desk, heading towards the living room. But as she opened her door, she slipped on a lone sock.

“GAHH!” 

Then her immediate vision was filled with wet, bare-chested boy. 

“Whoa, hey!”

Maka looked up to find Soul surprised expression. His one arm held her steadily while the other held onto the towel on his waist. His hair stuck out wildly like he toweled it thoroughly. His cheeks were a little pink from what was probably a long shower. Why was she always running into him naked?

“Yeah, thanks. Sorry,” she pulled herself up. “I was looking for you. But not that fast.”

“Okay,” he laughed. “What’s up? The shower is free if you want it,” he gestured down the hall. 

“No, I’ll use it later,” she said, not looking at his chest. “But can you get changed first? I want to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Just get changed first and we’ll talk,” she insisted and pushed him towards the living room. 

“What? Too much?” he teased. Damn his observation skills!

“Shut up and get dressed. Come to my room when you’re done,” she shoved him one last time and padded back to her room.

“You sure you want me to get changed?” he called out. 

“ **Soul** ,” she warned. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” she heard him chuckle to himself as he walked away. Cheeky bastard. 

She didn’t wait long because after a few minutes, he sat on her bed while she faced him on her chair. He wore an orange tank and some boxer shorts. His hair was held back by a headband. Her eyes automatically went to the scar that peeked out from the low neckline. 

“So what’s up?”

Her eyes jumped to his face and he raised an eyebrow.

She took a breath. _You can do it, Maka!_ But as she started to speak, she noticed that he was staring at her intently. She gave him the side eye when she asked, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

He didn’t say anything at first, arms crossed. His face was blank, which was getting annoying because happened often now. After a moment, he said: “You didn’t choose me, did you?”

_What._ She wasn’t prepared for that. Slight anxiety made her say, “What do you mean?” 

“Well, we’ve been living together for a couple weeks and I realized that I don’t remember anything up until waking up and seeing you. I’m pretty sure I’m human, so I must have come from somewhere.”

“Oh.”

“So did you live alone before that?”

“Yeah…”

“And did you need a roommate?”

“Not really,” Maka said. “I was supposed to live alone.”

“Hm,” he hummed. His stupid poker face didn’t say anything.

“Soul,” she started. “How much do you know?” He gave her a leveled look, considering what to say next. And then he asked, 

“I’m a test subject, right? That’s what you and Kid talked about?”

“I- well, “test subject” is a little much, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know. I thought I’d ask you about it.”

She hesitated, remembering Kid’s warning. He noticed unfortunately, his mouth twisted into a frown. 

“It’s not that I don’t wanna tell you,” she defended herself. “It’s just a sensitive situation.”

He challenged her, “I think I can take it.”

But Maka doesn’t think she can. She hated to admit that she enjoyed his attention a little. If she told him everything, he might… leave. _Isn’t that what you wanted, anyway?_ a little voice reminded her. She wasn’t so sure anymore. 

“Um… do you remember your past now?” she said meekly. 

“My past?” his eyebrows furrowed. “You weren’t joking about that?”

“No, I wasn’t,” she said honestly. “You have an older brother and a family. You play the piano. Really well, I might add.”

“Where are they now?”

“I don’t know. We can probably look it up?” she gestured to her laptop.

“You said they were… famous?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. So it shouldn’t be too hard to find them if you really want,” she said, her eyes downcast on her hands.

“Do you want me to?” he asked. 

Maka’s head shot up. He was thinking about her _now_? Like he needed her permission!

“Soul, what I want doesn’t matter. It’s about what _you_ want, not me,” she argued.

“I want your opinion,” he pressed. 

“Why does it matter?” 

“Because,” he said petulantly, arms crossed.

She sighed, “Soul--”

“Please?” His pleading expression wasn’t messing around. Oh lord. 

“No, I refuse to bring my say in this. It’s your life, Soul, not mine!”

“But I want you in it!”

She blinked stupidly at him, her whole bodying flushing.

He stood up from the bed. “Haven’t I made it clear that I care about you, Maka?” 

“T-that’s beside the point!” she stuttered. 

“No it isn’t! I do want to find out more about my family, but honestly,” he touched his scar through his tank. “I get this weird feeling whenever I think about it.”

“I thought you didn’t remember them!”

“I don’t,” he said. “But I’ve been having weird dreams lately. And they’re always about the same people, who feel like my parents. But I’ve never seen them before and they make me really uncomfortable for some reason.” His brows furrowed. 

_“Rumors of a suicide attempt”_ flashed in her mind. Maka chose not to mention it. 

“So why don’t I remember them? Why am I here?” 

His eyes implored her for answers and Maka didn’t know what to do. “I… I don’t think I should tell you,” she said. 

His frown deepened, “Why not?”

“Because I think you should find out on your own,” she said. “If you’re dreaming about them, maybe you’ll remember them soon. Kid said to let you naturally remember things on your own or you might go into shock.”

He nodded, but looked troubled. Maka was sure he was thinking, but she wasn’t sure if she was allowed privy to his thoughts. Did she want clearance to them? 

“I wouldn’t call you a test subject, Soul,” she began quietly. “You’re still **you**. I know you don’t remember anything right now, but you will. Like _really soon._ So don’t think too much about it, okay?” She gave him a small smile. 

“You have that much faith I’ll remember?” he asked. 

“If I feel like I can tell you something and it won’t hurt you, then I will,” she vowed. “I’ll help however I can. Will you trust me?”

He considered her for a moment and then said, “Okay.” 

The sun disappeared on the horizon. The grinning moon’s glow casted shadows in the room. Soul’s hair hid his eyes from her and Maka shifted in her chair nervously. After a few moments, Maka decided to get up and sat on her bed in front of him. 

“Are you okay though?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer her but did shrug his one shoulder. Not knowing what came over her, Maka crawled to his side and hugged him. A few moments later, he shifted some of his weight to lean on her. Their foreheads touched and taking the leap, Maka bravely nuzzled her crown to his.


	6. Grocery Shopping & Getting Lost

Maka picked up the ground meat and inspected it. They were having lasagna tonight because it was Soul’s favorite dish (besides fish, eurgh). She might have to consider setting limits on how much lasagna they had per month. It was a Friday evening during rush hour in August. Death City seemed to have the same idea of hosting barbeques and picnics while it was bright and dry out (which was almost every day, but that was beside the point). 

She surveyed for a mop of white in the crowded meat section. She should really consider getting him a phone. It couldn’t be hard to find him. He might be in the frozen aisle. After discovering a tub of strawberry in her fridge, Soul wanted to try ALL the ice cream. Thankfully, Maka didn’t have to pay for everything anymore. He managed to get a job at Deathmart, which helped their rent and other expenses, like splurging on dessert. And CDs. He had a whole shelf now, good lord. It had been a month and a half since Soul entered her life. He’s adjusted very well and Kid seemed pleased with his (now bi-weekly) reports. Maka rarely had to call on him for anything. 

She pushed her cart past dozens of freezers to the ice cream section. She’s unsure if they have enough pasta at home, so she hunted Soul down to ask if he knew. Turning the corner, Soul’s gaudy yellow shoes peeked from behind a fogged-up fridge door. Maka made out to call him, but when he closed the door she saw that he wasn’t alone. Her cart squeaked to a stop. 

Standing next to him was a buxom young woman with long purple hair. She had a low-cut top designed to look like a cat’s face and super short, lavender shorts. Maka recognized her as Blair, an upperclassman in her Biology 290 course. She recalled that Blair was studying to become a vet, who had an intense love for the feline species, and was a practicing Wiccan. She and Soul appeared to be deep in conversation. Maka watched Soul laugh at something she said. Blair giggled and said something else before parting ways with him with an audible, “Nyah.” Soul waved back at her before returning to the different ice cream flavors. 

When he successfully decided on a tub, he turned down the aisle with a satisfied smile. He briefly stopped in his tracks when he saw Maka, surprised to see her so close, and then continued his way toward her. 

“Did you get the pasta?” he asked, putting the tub in the cart. 

“No, I was gonna ask you if we had any left at home,” she replied, eyeing at the flavor he picked. Birthday Cake. Interesting. 

“I think we only have a little left.” he said, taking the cart away from her. He pushed a little up the aisle before noticing she wasn’t following him. Frowning, he asked, “You coming?”

“Yeah,” she said and trotted after him. They weaved themselves through the crowd and slowed in the middle of the grain and soups aisle. It was then Maka was brave enough to ask, “So… who was that girl?”

“Who?” he replied, distracted by the various pasta brands. 

“That girl? With the purple hair? You guys talked in front of the ice cream?”

“Oh, her? I bumped into her by accident ‘cause I didn’t look where I was going. She started talking to me ‘cause she recognized me from the few times I picked you up from school. She had class with you, apparently. You know her?”

“I thought she looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure,” she lied smoothly (guiltily). 

“Oh well, she told me you were like the smartest person in the class and you were great during discussions. Your name precedes you, nerdbrain,” he snickered. “Too bad your face recognition sucks. How can you forget someone who only talks about cats?”

“Well, the classroom is big so I never talked to her,” she protested, cheeks puffing. “Sorry if I’m more focused on my studies than people’s faces.” 

“Sure, sure,” he said teasingly. He picked their usual pasta brand and dropped it in the cart. “Is this everything we need?” 

“I think so…” she said, reciting the mental list of things they needed with the items in the cart. 

“Cool. Let’s go, I’m starving!” and he sped to checkout. Maka sighed and chased after him. She really should start trusting him more. 

\\\

Maka woke up the next day feeling groggy. The brightness in her room told her it was around noon. Grabbing her phone, she squinted at the time: 12:54 pm. The chances of Soul being up was fifty-fifty. Groaning and tossing about a few times, Maka eventually hauled herself from her bed and shuffled into the living room. Rubbing one eye, she noticed her roommate was nowhere to be seen. That was weird. 

She went to the bathroom. No Soul. After peeing, she popped into every room of the apartment (which weren’t many), and it was only after she returned to her bedroom when she saw a post-it note on her door frame. It read:

_Going out to explore. I need to think about some things. Will be back before dinner. - Soul_

_Eh?_ What did he need to think about (without her?)? Racking her brain told her nothing relevant. Soul sometimes went out alone, but it was usually to get something to eat or he’d tell her exactly why he went out. Though Soul had become more independent lately. He did things like spend some alone time in his “room” without her and actually, now that she thought about it, he stopped fawning over her like he had when he’d arrived on her doorstep. His affection became subtler, like messing with her because he could and he did this weird thing where he sniffed her hair randomly because her “soap smells nice.” He still hugged her occasionally and flirted with her, but a lot of it was to egg her on, like he didn’t have to try so hard to get a reaction out of her. Was she too easy now? 

_Oh my god, Maka, you are_ not _easy_. She made it perfectly clear that she would kick his ass if he tried anything. Maybe she was the one going soft on him? His “cool” persona wore off on her, but she noticed he only maintained an aloof persona in public. She reasoned it was to make everyone believe that he knew what he was doing, being that he was newly minted “undead” person. But around her, he took off his mask. He was just Soul: an occasionally sarcastic, sensitive, loyal shark bear. Fuck it. To her, Soul was _cool._

Man, she was a goner. 

_That still doesn’t explain why he’s gone._ Maka grumbled to herself. She was going to have to trust his instincts. He said he’d be back before dinner. She would ask him then. 

And so Maka went about her day. She caught up on some homework. Placed the beef out to defrost. She did some laundry and vacuumed the apartment. Afterward, she marinated the beef for tomorrow’s dinner. Then showered. Heated up enough leftover lasagna for two. She got really hungry by 6:30 so she started eating without him. Seven o’clock rolled past and Maka was very annoyed. Wrapping Soul’s plate with plastic wrap, an episode of Chopped distracted her for a little while. Later, Maka sank into a beanbag chair on the balcony, reading while waiting for the familiar jingle of keys and footsteps. Getting lost in a chapter, she surfaced when it was close to 10:00 pm. It was already dark. The grinning moon’s smile was bloody tonight. It irked her. Dark clouds rolled in the distance. 

_Bastard! Where is he?_ Maka thought, fuming. Death City was known for its weird customs and oftentimes dangerous streets, but Death citizens knew how to handle themselves in sticky situations. _But he’s not from here, is he? Who knows what would happen if he took a wrong turn…_ Maka shook the thought away. No, Soul wasn’t stupid. She trusted that he would get help if he was in trouble. So where was he?

_He’s dead,_ a voice snickered, which was typical Death Child talk, but it seemed a little too literal right then. She should probably look for him. 

Maka shoved on her combat boots and grabbed her black trench coat. Before she knew it, she was down the stairs before her apartment door locked with a click.


	7. Revelations

After an hour, she enlisted Tsubaki and Kid to help her find Soul. Kid said he would scan north and east DC via Beelzebub while Tsubaki took the west side of town. Maka would stay south near her neighborhood lest Soul turned up coming home.

What started as a tinge of worry became outright panic when it inched closer to midnight. It wasn’t long before it became easy to channel that worry to anger. She was a ticking time bomb with an early expiration date ,em>if Soul didn’t turn up now. She took her bike from storage and rode down street after street. After passing a particularly sketchy alleyway, her phone rang. It was Kid. 

“No Soul for me. You?”

_“No and I’m going to kill him.”_

“Don’t be reckless, Maka. Soul has progressed swimmingly and I’m sure he just got lost. He’ll turn up soon. Does Tsubaki have any luck?”

“Not from the last text she sent me.”

“I’ll go find her to help.”

“Thanks, Kid.”

Maka hung up and tried not to think about Soul in a ditch somewhere. She rode out of the shadiest part of town and took a short break near a bench. Her thoughts led her to wonder what it would be like if Soul did die again. It would be like Soul never touched her life. There was still the issue of him dying anyway, for the spell casted on him was experimental. The odds of Soul staying in her life were shaky to begin with. She shouldn’t have gotten attached. He could leave, just like Mama. 

A droplet shocked her out of her thoughts. Then another drop. Then the sky began to pour steadily. Maka was so done with this day. All she wanted was for him come home. Was that too much to ask?

Her phone vibrated. Tsubaki’s text read: _Kid and I found Soul. Come to Death City Park, West entrance._

\\\

_**“Soul Evans, you are dead!”** _

He sat on top of the kid’s playset section of the park. Next to him was another guy with shocking blue hair, who Maka belated realized was Tsubaki’s boyfriend from Japan (wasn’t he afraid of flying??). Both boys were horsing around, _**playing fucking parkour in the rain**_ like two idiots who _didn’t know what fucking time was._

Standing on top of the climbing ramp, Soul’s eyes widened when he realized that he _forgot to go home._

“Shit.”

“Soul, who’s that chick—AUGH!”

Two hardbacks whistled as they arced in the air. White and blue skulls smoked from the steaming dented heads shortly after. Tsubaki winced, hiding her face behind her wet fingers. Beside her was Kid, whose eyes sparkled with tears after witnessing how perfectly symmetrical Maka’s chop was. 

“That trajectory was perfection, Maka! Well done!” he swooned. “Can you do it again?”

“ _No_ and I’m going home now,” Maka said and got on her bike. Her coat was already soaked through. Her bangs covered her eyes. “Thanks Kid, Tsubaki.” 

When Soul came to, his vision swam before focusing on a fuming Maka riding up the hill towards their apartment. 

“Cruddddd,” he lamented and got up to run after her. Tsubaki was already bandaging her partner’s head, who groaned when he sat up.

“Geez, where did she keep those books? I didn’t see them on her when she was coming down the hill,” said the blue haired guy, rubbing his head. “You sure you’ll be okay, bro? She seems cray.”

_“Shut up, Black Star,”_ he growled and sprinted up the hill. 

“I’ll come by later to make sure you’re not dead!” the ninja shouted, waving his arm at his retreating figure. Tsubaki flicked him sharply in the face. 

\\\

Maka face-planted herself onto her bed. The apartment was quiet, contrasting to her raging thoughts. Why didn’t he stop by to say he’ll be out late? Why the heck didn’t he have a phone by now? She was even a little peeved at herself for not helping him get one. 

She heard a muffled jingle of keys a few minutes later. By then, her anger significantly lowered to a low simmer. His footsteps padded softly in the apartment. She was acutely aware of him when he stood at her doorway. The door was ajar, but he didn’t enter the room. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home,” he began. “I got carried away with Black Star and forgot about the time.” 

“Mm,” she grunted, facing the wall. 

“I’m sorry if I worried you. I’ll check in the next time,” he promised. 

_Next time? Will there be a next time?_ She thought, closing her eyes. 

She felt him shuffle to her and heard him slump on the floor next to her. He was home, safe. She wondered how long it would be before Soul called somewhere else his home. A familiar ache ignited in her. His apology rang in her ears and the pit in her chest sank. Maka knew the source. It was seeing Soul interacting with other people, which was a wonderful thing. She was happy he was adjusting to his new life, but it felt like he didn’t need her anymore. 

Maka curled herself around her pillow. She would adjust like she did before. Could she deal with him being gone?

“Maka?” Soul sounded alarmed. 

He touched her arm and she tightened her grip on the pillow. Oh. She was crying. A rush of pain snuck up to her, making her gasp. It crossed her mind that it had been awhile since she cried like this. _Soul helped. He made you happy._ And she hated how she let herself depend on him. She said no close connections, so no one could leave her anymore. Love didn’t exist, at least not for Maka. Everyone always left, eventually.

She belatedly heard Soul apologizing profusely. He said he was sorry and he wouldn’t do it again. “Don’t cry, I’m sorry,” he said desperately. But it didn’t matter because he didn’t have to be sorry for anything. 

In a rush of madness, she turned to him and couldn’t stop the words rushing out of her, _“Soul, are you leave me?”_

_“What?”_

“After the spell wears off, will you leave me?”

“Wha—”

“Because it you want to, that’s fine, but I just need to know—”

“Maka, I’m not going to leave—”

“Are you sure? Because you don’t have to stay if you feel obligated—”

“No, I want to live with you—”

“The spell will wear off so you might not feel that way later—”

“Maka, can you let me talk for a second, please?” he said a little forcefully. He needed her to calm down. 

She couldn’t even look at him anymore. How did she regress into this needy girl that needed someone to love her? This wasn’t Maka Albarn; she would never act like this, much less in front of someone. What was happening to her? Maybe her period was coming. That would explain the hormones at least.

Soul lifted her face, wiping tears from her eyes while she hiccupped. She realized she must have gripped his arms during her haze, but made no move to remove them. 

“Maka, shhh, hey it’s okay. I’m here.”

“Soul—” she choked out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m emotional right now—”

“It’s okay. It’s my fault—”

“No, no it’s not. You’re allowed to stay out as long you want--”

“Still, I worried you. I’m sorry—”

“Shut up, Soul,” she said petulantly. 

“No, you shut up,” he countered softly. 

“I’ll chop you.”

“You already did,” he said, trying not to laugh. 

“I’ll do it again.”

“Okay,” he said, climbing up onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her. Tears continued to leak as she held onto him and tried to pull herself together. Taking deep breaths, Soul rubbed her back soothingly. He propped his chin on the top of head. The sound of her shallow breaths permeated the space. Minutes ticked by before one of them spoke again:

“I know how I died, Maka.”

She hiccupped at his statement. 

“I remember everything. My parents. My brother, Wes. The weird dreams I’ve been having suddenly made sense last night. That’s why I went out today.”

“What happened to you? Did you really…?” she hesitated and his expression darkened. 

“I overdosed,” he said simply. “I didn’t see a point in living anymore and …it was easy. I didn’t even feel it. Looking back on it… I probably should have told Wes.”

He looked so sad. She felt the hand on her waist make a fist. 

“I was on anti-depressants for a while. I told my parents how I was feeling, but they didn’t understand. Wes secretly helped me get on meds and into counseling and it worked for two years. I never found anything that helped completely, but it was still better than nothing. Eventually, my parents found out and stopped letting me take medication.”

“Even though it was helping you??” she asked, outraged. 

“I was supposed to maintain the Evans family image and they were worried what would happen if the press found out.”

“That’s terrible, Soul,” she said, aghast. 

He shrugged, forlorn. “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t play what I wanted. I hated it whenever Wes defended me. I caused so much trouble for them, so one day… I couldn’t take it anymore.” 

Maka sniffled and hugged him tighter. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” he closed his eyes, rubbing her back. She even let him sniff her hair this time. The rain fell softly outside. They clung onto each other, grateful that they could have this moment. 

“How do you feel?” she asked after a while. “In comparison to before?”

“I feel good now,” he said. “I only remember how depression felt. Whatever Lord Death did, it sorta made me stable too.”

“Wait, so do you know about your resurrection?” she asked, brows furrowed.

“I went to the Academy today and I talked to Kid. He felt that I was ready and cleared up a lot of questions.”

“Did he mention about the risks?”

“About me possibly dying again? Yeah. Not too happy about that,” he scowled. 

“What are we going to do?”

He gave her a thoughtful look. Her eyes flickered to his mouth for a second. She was suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were when he said, “How about we go on a date?”


	8. Date

Soul was planning this date for weeks, but nothing seemed good enough. Restaurants were usual fare, but they were both juggling rent and living together. He thought about taking her to Las Vegas, but when he discreetly asked had she been, she told him she went a few years ago with her father (Vegas plus Spirit Albarn equals _not_ a good time), so that was out. There was the annual Death Bazaar that took place the whole weekend, but Maka has gone so many times in her life, skipping a year wasn’t a big deal. Plus, she only went for the fireworks on the last night. At least that was something they could do.

Running out of ideas, he decided to wing it, which was probably not a great plan because now they were walking around downtown with nothing to do. He should have thought of something before leaving the apartment. Soul sighed. But Maka didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed content walking around with him. She was probably happy to get in some daily walking today. Lucky him, he supposes (though he really feels lucky, jokes aside). 

He thought about last night, about how vulnerable Maka had been and it blew his mind how she could think he could leave her. Soul was pretty sure whatever love spell Lord Death placed on him was long gone. He remembered feeling a huge rush of affection whenever he saw or heard Maka, and looking back it only made him realize how unnatural it was. What he felt for her now was truly his (okay, the spell might have given him a little push), but nonetheless, he never felt so at home with anyone (though Wes might’ve come close). He felt secure with her; no one gave him the attention Maka did, like she actually wanted to spend time with him. He felt bad for Maka, who subjected herself with him at first, but he supposed that their relationship was formed from consequence, which was fine. In the end, they chose each other. A small smile slipped onto his face. 

He reached out to hold her hand. How could her hands be so small?

“Soulll, it’s hot!” she complained, trying to shake him off. She was not trying hard enough. 

“Shouldn’t you desert folk be used to the heat?” he said, squeezing her hand. 

“That doesn’t mean we don’t feel it!” 

“Geez, be happy I wanna hold your hand,” he baited her, pulling her closer. 

“Be happy that I let you,” she said sweetly, looking up at him. 

He bared his teeth at her, unable to think of a comeback. She blinked at him then looked away, cheeks tinted pink. She didn’t let go of his hand. 

They spent most of the day window shopping and seeing the sights. Maka pointed out historical landmarks that tourists came to see and she obviously knew all the facts. Once in a while, Soul lost track about who was where and would drag her to food stands while she was on a tangent. She chided him about spending money on overpriced food they could make at home, despite the fact that later on, the little hypocrite was hooked by the nose to a bath bomb shop and came out with a large bag full (Soul couldn’t enter the store because it made him sneeze so badly). It was when they sat down to eat ice cream when Soul spotted a flyer to a jazz show by his foot. 

“Hey, look at this,” he picked up the flyer. “Saturday, thirteen, that’s tonight! Wanna go?”

“What is it, exactly?” she asked, scanning the paper. 

“It says random people come to play and sing at this jazz club –”

“You’re gonna sing??”

“ _No, **no**_ ,” he said, aghast. “But we can just sit in and enjoy the show, you know?”

“Hmm,” Maka considered. He seemed excited about it, or as excited Soul can get. So why not? 

“Sure, let’s go.”

//

The dim room had a long bar, multiple small, circular tables, and a lot more stools littering the floor. Pockets of islands were facing the brightly lit stage, where a piano sat and two chairs were used musician after musician. Soul and Maka stayed long enough to see a very talented trumpeter, several singers, a cellist, a keyboardist, and right now, a violinist. Maka supposed they were all good. She never went to dives like this; anything musical fell deaf to her. But she thinks she can see why Soul would be entranced to jazz. There is a lot of, well, _soul_ in the performances tonight, which made it not too boring. Her father only took her a handful of musical performances in her life and while none compared to Soul’s piece all those years ago, a few tonight had her head bobbing. Soul sure knew how to pick them.

When the violinist finished playing, loud claps and hoots filled the space. The black haired girl bowed, smiling while she got ready to leave the stage. 

“She was really nice, right?” she commented, but when Maka turned to Soul, he was facing the wall, his elbow raised. Was he… crying? “Soul?”

He turned back toward her, his nose pink. “Yeah,” he croaked, clearing his throat. “She was really good.” 

Maka scooted her chair closer to him, intertwining their hands. “Do you remember that one time you came to Death City to play with your family? It was a long time ago…”

Soul thought for a moment and then, “I—wow. …Yeah, it was years ago. I remember now. Heh, my parents were super pissed at me that night. Only Wes seemed to care,” he said, drifting off. His expression grew more somber by the second, so she pulled at his hand to distract him.

“I liked it!” she stated vehemently. 

“What?”

“I was there, remember?”

“…Oh wait,” his eyes widened. “Really, that was you?” He laughed. “Why I didn’t make that connection? You even had pigtails back then too.”

Maka chose to ignore that. “I thought everyone else who played was boring. I didn’t understand yours, but it still made me feel something. I really liked it.”

He tried to brush it off, “Nah, I sucked. I didn’t follow the program and--”

_“Soul,”_ she growled and got in his face. “I. Liked. It.” 

He was stunned for a moment before taking the compliment. 

“You’re so aggressive,” he said softly. “Not that it’s a bad thing.” 

Maka felt something shift between them. His stared into her eyes, making her knees to come together. She saw his eyes flicker to her mouth. His eyes told her to come hither and entranced, she felt herself move closer. Their faces were inches away when—

“Hey, are you… Soul Evans??”

They froze. Maka watched Soul reluctantly pull back into himself. She looked over to see a young woman, who she recognized as the young keyboardist who performed earlier. The young woman realized she must have interrupted and winced.

“Aw, sorry. I got excited. I did a double take and I swear to god your boyfriend--” (Maka sputtered while Soul’s eyebrows disappeared.) “--looks like Soul Evans. Like from the Evans family,” she flipped her dirty blonde hair from her shoulder. “He was really good pianist that had a lot of potential, but I just remembered he’s dead.”

“He’s not dead,” Maka said indignantly before she could stop herself. She clapped her hand to her mouth.

“He’s not?” the girl raised her eyebrow.

“Uh, I mean, actually I don’t know if he’s really dead or not—” she stammered. 

“How do you know if he’s—”

“It’s okay, Maka,” Soul interrupted, putting an arm around her and stuck out his hand to the girl. “Soul Evans, nice to meet you.”

The older girl stared him down. After about thirty seconds later, she returned his hand shake rigorously, “Liz Thompson, big fan! I know a face when I see one and you’re _definitely_ Soul Evans. Oh my god, I can’t wait to tell Patti!”

“Actually, do you mind if you keep that a secret? It’s not something I throw out a lot.”

“Oh,” Liz said, taken aback. “Uh yeah, okay sure. But wait, I remember reading somewhere that said you died! What happened?”

“I ran away from home,” he lied. “Too much pressure. Thought I’d go solo and see where it’d take me.”

Maka gaped at him. Liz didn’t notice, who had her eyes closed while nodding sagely. 

“Respect, I got that intense vibe from your family. Can’t believe your ‘rents said you died though! That’s messed up!” 

“Very,” he said dryly. 

“Hey, why don’t you play something tonight? I bet this crowd would love it.”

“Nah, I don’t—”

“Hey everybody!” Liz turned towards the crowd. “This fella wants to play some keys for us! Why don’t we give him some encouragement to get him up there!” 

Whoops and claps sounded the room. All eyes were on Soul. Liz grinned eagerly at him. Maka didn’t know what to do. Soul looked terrified, paler than usual. He gulped and looked down at his hands. _Shit, I can’t play for this crowd. I’ll mess up!_ He thought. _I'll probably suck so it’s better to quit while we’re ahead--_

Then a smaller, but firmer pair of hands took his. His eyes met Maka’s and she was nervous for him, but only for his well-being. She wordlessly told him he can do it. She knows it. 

“I’ll come up with you if you want,” she offered. “I would love to hear it again.”

_She loved it. Maka loved it._ Well, he already died once before. Another near-death experience wouldn’t hurt. Soul couldn’t help but steal some of her bravery.

Up on the stage, no one seemed to mind that Maka sat in the chair next to him, mostly hidden by his frame. He had a whole bench to himself. The keys felt worn with age but were still light to the touch, notes tinkling clearly. The spotlight warmed his neck. He was definitely having sweat spots in his shirt later. He spoke a few words into the mic that caused the audience to laugh at his self-deprecating joke. It has been years, but he knew one song. His song. He only played it once, in front of a crowd much bigger than this one. And only one girl clapped for him. This was the composition of his soul.

“Maka,” he turned to her, taking hold of her courage. “For you.” 

\\\

Soul didn’t hear the cheers and applauses when he finished his song. His heart was beating fast and his fingers tingled. After the standing ovation, he had a beer, several pats on the back, and a talk with the manager about a possible future gig. It was an hour later when they could say goodbye to the dive and promised Liz Thompson he’d compose more (she’ll be in touch). Once outside Soul grabbed Maka’s arms and spun her around.

“Soul, what’s going on?” she said laughing. 

“I’m happy!” he exclaimed, elated. “That was great!”

“It was! I want private viewings from now on, okay?”

“Hmm, maybe sure,” he said and took one of her hands. “Dance with me?” 

She giggled at him because there was no need to ask. They were already hand in hand, spinning in odd circles on the empty cobble stone street. Maka was terrible at ballroom dancing, but what she lacked in skill, she made up with dizzying twirls and laughing when she tripped over herself. It was the time of night when the nightlife ventured out into dark, public places. But they weren’t interested in that. There was a trolley coming up the hill and they decided to take it home instead of walking. Hopping onto the train railing, Soul made a decision. It was now or never. 

“Maka,” he abruptly pulled her into his space, his hands lightly at her waist. He ignored the murmur of passengers behind him. 

“Eh?” her eyes widened at their proximity. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. Her breath caught her throat. 

She hoped whatever expression on her face didn’t betray her. Words clogged in her throat. Was it a yes? She wasn’t sure she wanted to say no. Whispering of the past told her no. But now told her _yes. Did he…? Want? Me?_

He leaned in closer and she couldn’t help it this time. She felt skin on her mouth. His lips slanted and pressed gently. She clutched onto his leather jacket, unsure where to put her hands. She pressed her lips back and she warm. _Everywhere._

When she couldn’t breathe anymore, she broke the kiss. Soul looked dazed. Lips buzzing, she knew she wanted to do it again. He gave her a half grin before she hid her pink face in his chest. 

\\\

Stepping into the apartment, they kissed a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. He helped her jacket off and he belatedly realized they might be going too fast when Maka started kissing his neck. Panting, she combed her fingers into his hair and somehow, his hands made it under her shirt. Maka led them to the futon and he was ripped from her lips by tripped over a rug. Suddenly, he was laying down and she was straddling him.

“Uh,” Soul uttered dumbly, hair wild.

Maka giggled. She was a sight: with one pigtail undone, clothes disheveled, blushing prettily and looking a little nervous. But she didn’t make to move off him.

“Is this okay?” he asked. 

Maka shyly nodded, super conscious of where his hands were (on her waist) and what she was sitting on (wearing shorts today was suddenly the best idea she’s ever had). He ran one hand down her thigh and she shivered. Soul pulled himself up to a sitting position and loosened the rest of her hair. Circling his arms to hug her, he nuzzled into her neck and made a raspberry noise. Giggling loudly, she fell backward with him on top of her and she pulled his face up to kiss him eagerly. 

Their make-out session continued on to the wee hours of the morning, exploring more of each other’s skin than they expected. They fell asleep spent, curled against one another. The drooling sun rose the next morning, waking the rest of Death City while the two lovers slept in. When Maka woke up mid-afternoon, she turned to wake up Soul for lunch when she suddenly realized that he was not snoring. Or breathing. Shaking him, Soul stayed limp, and no matter what Maka did, he did not wake up.


	9. Decisions

Franken Stein wiped his forehead with his sleeve and took a breath. Stabilized. After nearly two hours of intense work, Stein managed to get the heart pumping normally. There was nothing wrong with the soul, but the body had trouble taking in oxygen. He hooked up Soul Evans to an oxygen tank for now. Still, the specimen was not awake. He peered at the soul lingering in the chest cavity. It was weak, but still stronger than he last saw it. The soul looked fuller now, but it’s vessel was clearly traumatized after so much meddling. Resurrection was not natural and he warned Lord Death it would be risky. The body was already fragile due to past actions.

 _“A sound soul dwells within a sound mind and a sound body,”_ Stein murmured to himself. He turned the knob on his head thoughtfully.

The soul was stronger due to a recovering mind, but with a weak body. There was one solution and it might work. But he would need permission before proceeding. In the meantime, he’ll send in Marie to look after Soul while he took a smoke break. 

Exiting his work room into Shibusen’s main hallway, he found the Albarn spawn sitting by the door and she was deep in thought, her pigtails drooping low. Curious, he peered at her soul. No surprise that it was still one of the strongest souls he’d ever encountered. Death Scythe’s daughter had a lot of potential as a Meister, but very early on, she decided not to enroll at the Academy. A shame, he thought. With her Grigori soul, she would have been an excellent addition to Shibusen. 

It wasn’t long before Maka acknowledged his presence. “Stein-hakase,” she bowed, dark circles prominent under her eyes. “How is he?”

He told her about his condition and his observations. “There’s nothing wrong with his soul, but his body most likely stopped functioning due to being resurrected, obviously an abnormal feat. He isn’t awake yet and I’m not sure when he will.”

“Will he be okay, though? Will he--?” she couldn’t say it. 

“Live? I think there might be a solution, but I have to speak with Lord Death first before giving you an official answer. Until then, rest easy. He’s out of harm’s way.”

Maka nodded before asking, “Can I see him?”

“I don’t see the harm. Marie will be in soon to check his vitals.”

“Thank you,” she said and hurried into the room.

Stein made his way to the Death Room, whistling. He wondered if she and Soul could have a high resonance rate…

\\\

Maka woke up a couple hours later to someone tapping her on the shoulder. She must’ve fallen asleep next to Soul. She blearily opened her eyes and saw black with white stripes. 

“Hey Kid,” she said, yawning. 

“Sorry to wake you, Maka. I would wait if it wasn’t pressing,” he said, pulling up a chair next to her. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. It’s been an exciting day,” she said, rubbing her face.

“I imagine. I came to you to discuss what to do with Soul.”

“I feel like all of our conversations are about what to do with Soul,” she chuckled lightly.

“Yes, it would seem so,” he smirked. “Stein has talked to my father and I and we might have a solution to ensure that Soul stays healthy permanently.”

“What is it?”

“Another procedure.”

“Ugh, it’s a normal one or a magical one?” she crossed her arms. “At this point, I’m not sure if I approve tampering with him like he’s a toy.”

“It does involve a little magic, but hear me out,” he asked. 

“That sounds familiar,” she said ironically. 

He ignored her and continued, “Do you know anything about the history of demon weapons?”

She blinked at him for a few seconds before replying, “...Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Because no,” she firmly said.

“Maka—”

“No! I don’t want him to be a weapon!” She asserted loudly. “Do you know how dangerous that is? He’ll be sent on missions and into deadly situations—”

“Not all students are sent on missions! They’re actually called NOT students—”

“No! Hasn’t Soul been through enough? There has to be another way to keep him alive—”

“But there isn’t,” Kid countered grimly. “There’s no telling how Soul will continue to live with the body he has! His soul is weak and if we don’t--”

“Then why did you do this to him if you didn’t know what you were doing?” she shouted, glassy eyed. “How could you when we just—”

“It wasn’t my idea; it was my father’s—” 

“Well Lord Death should have thought this through before messing with someone’s life—”

“I have thought it through, Maka. There’s no need to be upset.” 

She whirled to the quiet, calm voice at the door. Lord Death loomed at the infirmary door, his black cloak shifting as he walked into the room. 

“Father,” Kid greeted. Maka looked shamefaced at her feet, but didn’t move to greet him. Instead, she laced her hands with one of Soul’s and held it possessively. It was difficult to blink back tears. 

Lord Death walked over to Soul and inspected him. After a moment, he raised a large hand and purposefully waved it over Soul’s head.

“What are you doing?” Maka asked, alarmed.

“Soul-kun will be waking up very soon,” the mask said gently. “Be sure to tell him his options after he’s settled and he’ll decide what he wants to do.”

“What other option is there? You only gave us one!” she accused.

“Death is always an option,” he replied lightly. 

“No it’s not!!” Maka looked as if she was going to strangle him, death god or not. The death child talk was not helping. 

“Ultimately, it will be Soul’s decision whether or not he wants to proceed with the Eibon experiment,” Lord Death concluded. “If Soul-kun decides to be a weapon, he will be welcomed here at the Academy. He does not need to go on missions unless he is enrolled in the EAT class, so he will be perfectly safe in NOT. He’ll be trained to use his powers appropriately, but if he chooses not to enroll, we will continue to monitor his health and do whatever we can to save him if need be. But there is no guarantee that he will live a long life this way. That is nobody’s fault by mine.”

Maka glared at him nonetheless. She didn’t realize how hard she was gripping Soul’s hand until she felt it twitch. Soul’s breathing noticeably shifted, fogging up the clear mask. Maka watched his face scrunch up while she heard Lord Death say he’ll be in the Death Room if anyone needs him. 

Soul groaned and moved to push the mask off him before Maka stopped him. He spotted her wearily and then realized he was not home. 

“Maka? Where are we?”

\\\

After Stein deemed it safe enough to remove the oxygen mask, Soul was allowed to eat. He was scarfing down the last bit of food before Soul started asking questions. 

“So it’s either death or be a death weapon?”

“Yeah,” Maka grumbled. 

“So I don’t need to kill things if I don’t want to?”

“No, defeating pre-Kishin is a difficult task and we only send our EAT students depending on their experience,” Kid informed. “Whether or not you become EAT later on is entirely up to you.”

Soul took a sip of water and pondered. He looked over to Maka and saw that she was still upset. “Hey,” he said, nudging her. “What are you thinking?”

“I think it’s unfair how you don’t have control of your life or your body,” she grumbled. “It’s unfair and I don’t agree with anyone tampering with your body again.”

“But if I get the chance to live a long life, shouldn’t I take it?”

“There has to be another way besides becoming a weapon, Soul.”

“But there isn’t,” he reasoned. “I threw my life away and I’ve been given a second, now third chance? It’s a kind of a miracle that I’m still talking to you.”

“Soul is right, Maka,” Kid agreed. “You shouldn’t think of it being unfair. It’s actually remarkable how well Soul has progressed and is still undergoing change. It’s frankly quite brave of you, Soul.”

“Uh, thanks?” he scratched his head sheepishly. 

“But I am sorry on behalf of my father and myself for what we put you through,” Kid admitted. “That wasn’t our intention, but we didn’t want your soul to go to waste before you lived up to your potential.” 

“It’s cool. Thanks for… bringing me back? And believing in me, I guess,” he said awkwardly. “I’ll think about it and let you know ASAP.”

“Perfect. You two have my number when you’re ready. Now, I must head home and tidy up. I have a few guests coming over,” he stood up, straightening his jacket. “We’ll talk soon.”

“Thanks, Kid,” Soul said and watched him leave the infirmary. 

Alone with Maka, Soul lowered his guard. He gestured her to give him her hand and she gave him a look before complying. 

“I just want to look at it. I never actually looked at your hands before,” he said.

“Why would you?” she raised an eyebrow.

“I should know all parts of you, right?” he replied, grinning mischievously. 

“Not every part, geez,” she took her hand back. “You’re so weird.” 

“I know,” he smiled at her. “Come on, lemme see your hand!”

“No,” she laughed. “We have to talk about this! Stop distracting me.”

“I know, but we have to talk about it anyway, so distractions are allowed,” he stretched out to try and grab a hand. 

“That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“I’ll fight you.”

“Like you could take me.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Soul, you have no money AND we still have to talk about this.”

He cracked up with laughter before deciding to give in. “Can I hold your hand though?”

“Oh my god, here,” she relented. They had a quiet moment of him tracing her hand lines.

“Would it be so bad if I became a weapon?” he laced their fingers together. 

She didn’t answer at first. Maka’s hands tickled at his ministrations and reached out her other hand to hold onto his. After gathering her words, she started with a sigh, “My Papa became Death Scythe when I was four. He came home less and less because of his job and even more so because of his cheating habits. Mama worked overtime so she didn’t have to see him. I never wanted to become a Meister because I saw what that did to her. Their relationship was already fragile and Papa becoming Death Scythe made it worse.”

“Your dad sucks because he’s a dick, not because he’s a weapon,” he reasoned. 

“I know,” she said. “Even though Papa’s job is dangerous and I know that he’s doing some good in the world. But when Mama left…” 

Soul didn’t need to hear the rest. Spirit Albarn was an asshole who couldn’t control his urges at the best of times, but he stuck by Maka her whole life. He loved her, and no matter how embarrassing he was, she would never completely shun her father. Still, what was done was done and past actions did their toll. 

Soul didn’t want to ask that much of her, but it was the only way he could live. He knew his answer already, but she was a part of his life now. He wanted her input before deciding what to do. 

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I’m not your dad, Maka. I don’t have to go on missions like he does. I’ll be with you for as long as you want.”

Glassy eyed, she got up from her chair and he scooted over so she can lay next to him. She rested on his shoulder and they hugged each other tightly. 

While waiting for her answer, he drifted off to sleep when Maka said quietly, “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“If you want to, you should do it.”

He took a deep breath and inched closer to kiss her forehead. He couldn’t ask for a better partner.


	10. Epilogue

_One month later_

\\\

“Soul! Get up! We’ll be late!!”

“……”

“SOUL!”

“Mrhgn.”

The apartment was blissfully quiet for the moment. She might’ve distracted herself with breakfast. Soul buried deeper into his pillow. Let her chop him. At least it would give him a few more minutes of shut eye. Zzz….

What felt like seconds later, heavy weight crashed into him.

“AHHG!”

“Wake up. You. Lazy. BUM!” Maka screeched, punctuating each hit with a pillow. She maneuvered herself to sit on his waist.

With energy he felt like he should never exhibit first thing in the morning, he futilely reached out and attempted to grab the small pillow, eyes determinedly shut. He looked so silly that Maka laughed at him. 

“Soul, you’re not even trying,” she said, holding the pillow high above her.

“I don’t care!” he grunted, still flailing. Maka proceeded to shove the pillow lightly onto his face. He automatically gave up and surrendered, arms flopped open on his sides. 

“I’m dead,” his voice muffled. She snorted and lifted the pillow away. He opened a tired eye and squinted at her.

“Breakfast is ready, dead boy,” she informed him.

He wordlessly raised his arms and beckoned her into a lying down hug. 

“No.”

He shook his arms again, insistent. 

“Soul.”

“Two minutes,” he bargained. He knew she was a little tired. She tossed around a lot last night.

She gave him the stank eye before sighing. She shifted her weight and laid on his chest, his arms enveloping her. He breathed her in and relaxed, rolling them on their sides. Maka fingered the top of his scar absently. 

Today was his first day at Shibusen and she was nervous. The Eibon experiment completed successfully and Soul recovered for a week after the transformation. That was one month ago. Soul felt like he had more energy in comparison to after his collapse, and after the following week Stein gave him the okay to leave the infirmary. Lord Death gave him the option of enrolling at the Academy; the following semester started within a month. Soul naturally accepted, wanting to get his powers under control quickly. 

Since the academy only had courses up to high school level, he dual enrolled at Maka’s university while taking his weapon courses in order to graduate with a Shibusen degree. It was a new beginning for him. And for her.

In the days leading up today, Maka felt out of sorts with herself. For a long time, she always rejected the idea of being a Meister. But now, she can’t help but be interested in this new part of Soul. A lot of special information about weapons was only available to their students and the general public only knew the limited information in order to enroll. Unless she bugged Soul (which she could), she would only know what he brought home, which he made perfectly clear that he was only doing the bare minimum (unless it was about controlling his powers). Now, the student within her wanted to know more. 

She hasn’t mentioned it to Soul and she doesn’t plan to until she made an official decision. A loud snore jolted her out of her thoughts. She squinted and pinched his nose. Several seconds later, he coughed and choked while she shoved him off the bed.

\\\

“Will you be okay, Soul?” she asked.

He revved up his bike, prepared to leave after he dropped her off. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I? S’not far.”

“Well…” she wavered. She actually didn’t know why she asked him that. Maybe she ought to ask herself that question. “Just call me if you need anything. I’ll take a bus over.”

“I can handle it, relax,” he gave her a half grin. “Spent two weeks there, I feel like I know half of the place already.” 

“Okay,” she replied, still feeling hesitant but didn’t want to worry him. She waved at him meekly, waiting for him to drive off. 

He pouted, puckering his lips. Maka’s cheeks pinked and they kissed goodbye. 

Leaning back, he studied her face and said, “Let’s take one day at a time, yeah? I don’t know what will happen, but we’ll figure it out. I don’t plan on finding a Meister right away if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not!” she lied adamantly. It did make her feel better though.

“Sure and I like people.”

“ _Okay,_ geez go! You’ll be late,” she urged him. “Have a good day.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” And they kissed again. 

While she watched Soul roll away in the distance, the idea of Meister Maka didn’t sound so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andddddd that's it! Thank you for reading and wow, you actually finished it (I didn't think anyone would actually finish reading it). Here's a invisible gold star. *sticks a star on you*
> 
> If you have any comments or questions, say them below! :D
> 
> Resbang 2016 has been an amazing journey of self-discovery and healing for me. Thanks to the mods and everyone who encouraged me to finish this fic. You're all awesome.


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